


Happy Birthday To You, Clarke

by Clementines



Category: The 100 (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clementines/pseuds/Clementines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin is twenty-eight years old today. She has now been on Earth for ten years which leads her to contemplate her life back then, her life now, and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1\. Wake Up Auntie Clarke

 

“The year you were born marks only your entry into the world. Other years where you prove your worth, they are the ones worth celebrating.”

Jarod Kintz, This Book Title Is Invisible

 

She’s sleeping soundly when screaming and light footsteps envelop her cabin. She’s on high alert for a few seconds, her mind drifting to all those wars they’ve been trhough, even though it’s been a good seven years of solid peace now. She can’t help how her senses are sharpened by sleepless nights and the inability to trust people, surroundings, animals or things. Faith was a luxury she had gave upon long ago. 

When she opens her eyes, sat upright on her bed and heavily breathing, she is met with Raven deep brown eyes and an expression that resembles pity a little bit. She knows nobody is on alert nowadays but her, the only person in Utopia Camp who can’t seem to relax as the years pass. She blinks a few times and looks around her to see children springing happily on both sides of her furs, laughing and singing. It takes her a few more seconds to recognize the tune then she finally gets it: today is her birthday; she’s twenty-eight years old today. Then the realization that she has now spent ten years on Earth downs on her with the force of a wrecking ball although she doesn’t have time to dwell upon it because her attention is being strongly claimed. 

-Come on aunt Clarke! It’s your birthday! You need to get out of bed and celebrate.

That voice, that cheerful voice, belongs to none other than Augustus Blake. Octavia and Lincoln’s son, the first offspring to be born through the union of grounders and sky people –but in no way the last-, who was now almost nine years old. Physically, Augustus was just like his father but with his mother striking blue eyes and the cute freckles he had inherited from his uncle. All things considered, he was a beautiful child and Clarke was not surprised, he definitely had genetics on his side. He was usually a calm child but Octavia’s hunger for life was definitely etched in every one of his gestures. The boy launches his arms around her neck and she smiles into his hair, her heart tightening at the affection he showers her in. 

-Come on auntie, there’s people waiting to see you.

Clarke’s smile grows larger as Augustus uses “auntie” to refer to her. She still can remember the day he first uttered that word.

He had been five when he had tugged his mother’s sleeve before whispering something into her ear. Octavia’s laugh had ran freely through the camp, startling Clarke and Bellamy who had sat only a few feet away while looking through some gathering trip’s details. 

-What’s so funny, Augustus?

Bellamy had asked, a fond expression on his face. Since Augustus was born, Bellamy had become sweeter, happy at the fact that his little sister –the one once confined under a floor, without a single flicker of hope- was now a mother, among many other things. Once they had achieved the peace, something in Bellamy seemed to forever relax as if at least part of his mission in life had been successfully accomplished. Clarke had soon found that anybody who was responsible for the happiness in Bellamy Blake’s eyes was as precious as a person could get in her eyes. 

-Go. Go tell them. They should know.

Octavia had spoken softly to Augustus and he had obeyed immediately. 

-Clarke, can I call you auntie?

Both Clarke and Bellamy had looked at the little boy surprised, even shocked, until she had asked:

-Why would you call me that, August?

-Well, aunts are the persons who are with uncles, right?

It wasn’t exactly right, but it wasn’t completely wrong either, was it? And Clarke couldn’t find it in her to correct the cutest boy of Utopia Camp. 

-Um, yeah, sure.

-And whenever I go to see uncle Bellamy, you’re there so I shall call you auntie.

Octavia had exploded in laughter all over again while Clarke and Bellamy had stared at Augustus with a dumbstruck expression on their faces. Octavia had looked at Clarke smirking slightly; as if she held a precious secret she wouldn’t let her in just yet. In the end Clarke had looked over at Bellamy, asking permission with her eyes, and he had reassured her with a small smile.

-Sure, August, I can be your auntie.

The kid had hugged her so strongly that some of her broken parts, she thought, may have found their way back together.

It had not always been so easy; Clarke still recalled vividly the first years of Augustus´ life. Octavia had been resentful towards her for a long time, refusing to let her come near her child if it wasn’t for a medical emergency. She had even preferred a grounder healer, Nyko, to help her give birth. She had never forgiven Clarke for Ton DC even though she had kept silent about it, leaving the blonde to judge when to reveal that information if she ever wanted to reveal it at all. Octavia had worked with Clarke in the aftermath of Mount Weather, but she had as sky people had worked with grounders, forced to work with someone you didn’t trust or like. Back then, she had taken every opportunity to let Clarke know how easier would life be if she wasn’t there, how easier would everything be if she had never came back. For three years, Octavia had kept her away from her and her little family, casting dirty glances on Lincoln whenever he spoke to her, but in the end Bellamy’s sadness about it had won her over. Her relationship with Bellamy had not been in the best place and Clarke had thought he didn’t really blame Octavia’s for her behavior until she had surprised a conversation, upon returning to camp from a trek. 

Octavia had been pacing near the entry of camp while Bellamy had stood still, in front of her, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. 

-I can’t believe you Bell! I don’t get it.

-What don’t you get, O? You have to let it go at some point and, honestly, it has gotten ridiculous. Everybody in camp is allowed to go near your son but her. It doesn’t make sense.

-Oh yes, to me it does.

-She loves him; she loves him as much as anybody here does.

-She doesn’t deserve it! She doesn’t deserve love, Bellamy.

Bellamy had looked at Octavia with a sadness that had tightened around Clarke’s heart like a serpent, mirroring her own feelings.

-And who are you to be the judge of that, Octavia?

-I’m as good as any.

Bellamy had nodded and thrown his arms in the air. 

-Fine, then let judge everybody else by your standards, shall we? My hands are as bloody as hers, Octavia. My heart is as dark as hers so maybe you shouldn’t let me come near my nephew either.

Octavia had looked at Bellamy angrily before pointing her index finger into his chest.

-Don’t you dare comparing you two! You have nothing to do with her, you’re not a betrayer.

Bellamy had chuckled humorlessly, with something in the air much that smelled much like despair. 

-That’s what you like to think O; but we’re all betrayers of some sort. We have all betrayed ideas and people. We’re survivors. You don’t get to survive otherwise.

-What do you want from me, big bro?

-I want you to stop punishing her. Believe me, there’s no need. She does that on her own brilliantly.

Clarke had left unheard, not wanting to intrude more in a conversation that felt so private but only a few days afterwards she had been allowed to hug Augustus for the first time. 

During the ten years Clarke had spent on Earth, she had discovered that the devotion Bellamy held for Octavia wasn’t, as she had initially thought, one-sided. The most she grew, the most Octavia seemed to appreciate everything her brother had done for her. He was the only reason she ever let Clarke back, the only reason she had finally craved in and let her be someone in her kid’s life. Bellamy had smiled softly at her, eyes full of tenderness, and Octavia had rolled her eyes as if it didn’t matter that much. Octavia had still kept Clarke at bay but, as the years passed, she had warmed up to her until they had become friends again, almost as good ones as they once were.

-Hey! Don’t keep her to yourself; she’s my aunt too!

Maya’s voice echoes load in her ears and soon enough not only one pair of arms is at her neck, but two. Maya was now seven years old and Clarke was pretty convinced she would end up marrying Augustus. The boy had taken it as a personal mission to protect Raven and Wick’s daughter, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as he had Blake’s blood running through his veins. They bickered all the time, both of them with a strong personality, but wouldn’t let anyone else as much as look badly at the other. Maya was the vivid image of her father: blonde haired, blue eyed and very faired skin; she looked more alike Clarke than alike Raven witch had become a running joke between both women. Her personality, however, was a mirror of her mother’s: strong, brave and forward, Maya was a force of nature to reckon with. 

-Okay guys, there is aunt Clarke for everybody, yeah? Now get out of here and let her breathe. Don’t you have siblings to attend to?

At the mention of Aurora and Finn, both of the children leave running. The rule of one child per couple having determined their existence on the Ark, the old delinquents had ended up contemplating that kind of bond as nothing short of sacred. Clarke thought Bellamy and Octavia’s relationship, that had gathered admiration and envy through the years, wasn’t innocent in the matter either but she kept it to herself. 

-How is the birthday girl?

Clarke sighs and looks at Raven feeling much older than she actually is. 

-It’s like a truck just hit me.

Raven chuckles and rolls her eyes. It has always amazed the blonde how after everything she had been through, her limp leg a silent testimony of it, Raven could still be so full of strength. 

-It’s been ten years, Raven.

Raven could hear everything that was unsaid in that short sentence; every single regret, the awe at having survived that long, the realization life was escaping through her fingers one day at a time, the never ending memories... 

-I know. It’s pretty shocking. Ten years ago I lost everything and look at me today.

Clarke smiles at the blissful expression on Raven’s face and ignores her own sadness. What has she become ten years later? A mass destructor, a broken girl, a lonely leader, Wanheda. 

-Take your sweet time because, I’m telling you, once you set one foot out of that tent, there won’t be a moment of peace for you.

Clarke hides her face into her hands and grunts. 

-Party?

-Oh girl, every kind of it. We’ll begin with your mom’s visit, then the grounders delegations coming to pay their respects to you, a PG party for the kids and an adult one at night so you can finally loosen up a little.

-Amazing. Is it my birthday or “Let’s torture Clarke” day?

-Aren’t those two the same thing? I’ll give you half an hour then I’ll come barging in here and get you out whether you like or not.

-Love you too, Raven.

-Hey, Clarke?

-Yeah?

-Happy birthday.

-Thanks Raven.

Then she remembers she is now twenty-eight years old and laughs out loud because she would have never imagined her life to be what it is at twenty-eight years old. At some point in the not so distant past, she had stopped imagining a future altogether.

 

“A birth-date is a reminder to celebrate the life as well as to update the life.”

Amit Kalantri


	2. Mamy Blue

“Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met.”

Marguerite Duras

 

Clarke is waiting by the entrance of camp for her mother’s arrival, trying to avoid all the fuss everyone is making about her birthday. They would make it every year but, for some reason, it wouldn’t bother her as much as it was doing right now. It was probably the fact that it was her tenth anniversary on Earth; it was just a number but it seemed to affect her deeply, unlatching every kind of thoughts she has successfully locked away for years. 

She isn’t particularly thrilled to see her mother; even though they don’t hold grudges against each other anymore, things had never gotten back to how they were on the Ark, some kind of tension eternally lingering between the two women. When she had discovered her mother’s responsibility in her father’s floating, Clarke had thought she would never forgive her. Oh, she thinks now, what a decade can do to you. Now Clarke snorts at the girl she was, she could see now what Bellamy had certainly seen back then: a petulant, arrogant and uptight child. That Clarke, that long buried Clarke, had been so sure of her values and what she would or would not accept, an idealist. That Clarke hadn’t known the first thing about living. That Clarke had never disappointed her mother, she had been the disappointed one until Ton DC had come. Clarke would never forget the look of sheer horror in her mother’s eyes, the realization that her offspring was not who she thought she was but a woman with enough cold blood in her to let a bomb drop on a village with people she cared about inside.

After that, things had changed. After that, she knew. She could understand what had driven her mother to end his father’s life, even if she was hypocrite enough to not forgive it. A new relationship had installed itself between mother and daughter, a relationship without false expectations or idealizations of who the other was. It was crude but truthful. Clarke still remembered the night everything had changed. She had been back for two months and was standing by the fire, alone. Back in those days, she had cultivated her loneliness and nobody, but Bellamy, had protested against it that much. Her mother had approached her, determination etched in her features. 

-Clarke, how are you tonight?

She had snorted at the question, not remembering the last time her mother had actually asked her that. 

-I’m doing all right, thanks.

Abby had sighed before looking deeply into the fire, calculating her every word. 

-I am sorry. I had to say so.

-Sorry about what?

-So many things, Clarke. I’m sorry about the way we handled the Ark, about the class system you grew up in, about your father’s death.

Clarke’ s eyes had jumped to her mother’s face, a deep frown on her visage. Abby Griffin wasn’t the kind of person to be sorry about things, much less to regret them.

-What are you talking about?

-You grew up in a world where some lives were worth more than others, a world where people were dispensable and I helped rule that world.

-Mom...

-I was wrong. We were wrong. Look at Octavia; she’s strong, courageous, and capable but we would not have given her the chance to be born. Look at Bellamy, forced to be a janitor for caring about his family when he could be so much more. It wasn’t fair.

-It was survival.

Abby, in a very uncharacteristic gesture, had taken Clarke by the shoulders and bored her dark eyes into her blue orbs.

-Survival doesn’t justify everything, Clarke. I thought it did, I taught you it did but it doesn’t. We choose what we do to survive, what we’re ready to give up to survive, and then we live with it. We carry that weight with us, forever.

Clarke had swallowed the tears she thought she didn’t have anymore, trying to return to the state of ataraxia she had achieved in the last months.

-Why are you telling me this now?

-Because I was wrong to judge you. You killed people in Ton DC, but so did I on the Ark. It may have not been by letting a bomb drop on them but, in a hundred tiny ways, so did I. I’m no one to judge you, Clarke. You carry your weight and I carry mine.

Then Abby had hugged her tightly. After a few seconds of hesitation, Clarke had hugged her back, secretly grateful for the shared loneliness of their respective weights. 

-Son!

Clarke’s is brought back to the present by Miller’s father voice, cheerfully calling for his son. He spares her a smile before running through the gate of the camp and Clarke watches as he reaches his grandson, now a few months old, tucked into Miller’s arms with her wife, a grounder from the neighboring tribe, standing by his side. The image is a postcard of happiness and for a moment Clarke almost thinks that it is possible to forgive, almost. 

-Honey.

Her eyes dart back to the front and her mother is standing there, smiling, while other members of camp Jaha congratulate her before going to whomever they have really come for. Abby walks towards her and engulfs her in a hug, whispering into her ear.

-Happy birthday, Clarke.

The words have almost a hypnotic effect on Clarke, taking her back in time.

She’s ten years old, drawing with the brand new colors crayons Wells has given her a few hours ago, clad in the blue princess gown her parents have offered her. Her dad is smiling at her while her mother is cleaning the house, which is a mess after the party. At the time, she doesn’t know about injustice; she has no idea Octavia is hiding somewhere under a floor, or that the kids’ parents in other stations cannot afford gifts for their birthdays. She a lovely father and a loving mother, a best friend, crayons, a nice dress and she’s delightfully happy. Her mother comes to sit next to her father and ruffles her hair, her hair lingering there a bit longer as she whispers “Happy birthday, Clarke.” 

Oh, all the things she’s lost. 

-Are you all right?

-Yeah, yeah, great actually. Follow me, I’ll tell you where you can leave all of that.

Her mother and some of the others are carrying bags full of provisions, technology, and furs... A lot of things they will leave at Utopia Camp in exchange of other goods they’ll bring back to Sky Camp. 

-This place looks actually great, Clarke.

Lieutenant Miller says to her, a look of admiration etched on his face.

-Yeah, we’ve been growing non stop.

The camp is truly doing well. The medbay, well equipped, is situated around the end of the camp, to the right of the agora where the assembly reunites and orientative votes are taken. Clarke is no longer the only medic; she has fully trained other persons and given basic notions to every single person in the camp. A few meters away the school stands proud; they had finished building it three years ago. At first it hadn’t seemed a priority but, as the years passed and the lasting peace increased the number of newborns significantly, it had become a necessity. They all helped; Monty teaches science, Raven and Wick do the same with Mathematics while Bellamy teaches history and a bit of philosophy. Murphy ends up surprising them all with his love for Shakespeare and is given English to teach while Lincoln does the same with Grounder language. Octavia becomes the one in charge of their physical education; they do not have a warrior culture like the grounders but they are not delusional either, the peace seems always frail and they need to be prepared for further outcomes. The tents they initially lived in have been long replaced by strong wood cabins: one per family or per group of four people, with the exception of Clarke and Bellamy whose only privilege in camp, the only one they ´ve accepted, is a single cabin for each. Bellamy likes to justify himself talking of the lack of space on his Ark’s station and how luxurious it actually is to have space, which is true, but Clarke knows better. She knows the nightmares that still wake him at night; they’re not as constant as they were but they’re still there, so are hers. They’ve also built a canteen, some recreational buildings and an engineering space for Raven, Wick and their pupils. They also work on an enormous garden where they grow medicinal plants, fruits and vegetables. They’ve also made a wall were pictures drawn mostly by the kids hand proudly, making the place alive with happiness and youth. Looking around, Clarke can’t help the feeling of pride swelling up in her heart.

-You’re an awesome leader Clarke. This is amazing.

-Yeah, well, I’m only half of it. Bellamy has been working his ass off for years, everyday, and everyone gives its best.

Lieutenant Miller nods at her, smiling, as her mother drops the last bag she was carrying. 

-Let’s go take a walk, shall we?

-Yea, sure.

Both Griffins stroll out of camp, near each other but without touching, into the green nature. It’s spring and everything is blossoming around; the Earth seems almost as welcoming as it had in Clarke’s dreams before she actually met her. 

-How are you? For real, I mean.

Clarke smiles at her mother’s implications and shakes her head.

-I am fine mom, really am. What about you?

Clarke knows that, since Kane’s death two years ago, her mother has been pretty lonely. When she had first learned about Kane and Abby’s relationship, she had been irrationally mad at her mother; she had felt their love as the ultimate betrayal to her father, the one she didn’t want to understand. Bellamy had been the one to soothe her, even though their relationship had been full of tension at the time. 

She had been mad, furious even. She had been sitting outside of camp for an hour, watching the watch she loved as much as loathed; it reminded her of her dad and his wonderful love, but also of the first time Finn lost it, leading to the third tragedy of her life. How could she? Loving the man who had floated his father had to be a crime. Bellamy had approached her, a stern look on his face, the same look he gave Octavia when he thought she was behaving like a stupid teenager.

-What do you want?

He had spoken only a few words to her after the war and, even if certainly he had his reasons, it hurt her deeply. She felt she had lost him, the only person she could never bear to loose. 

-You can’t do this, Clarke.

-Do what?

-Lead people, be adored by grounder tribes like a goddess, win wars then being mad at your mother because she has fallen in love again.

-Shut up, Bellamy. This has nothing to do with you.

-Neither with you.

-Excuse me?

He had shrugged at her, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

-You’re an adult and it’s not you love life, it’s hers.

Clarke had groaned before tightly clutching the watch between her hands. 

-I don’t even know if it really began now. They’ve been working for years together; they surely had some kind of attraction going on. Maybe they acted upon it up there. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to float my father for both of them.

He had looked at her with pity in his eyes and she hadn’t been ready for that. Those days Bellamy Blake looked at her with anger, maybe sadness, but never pity. 

-Don’t, Clarke. Don’t do that to her, don’t do it to you. You both deserve better.

-You don’t understand.

-Oh, believe me, I do. I perfectly get the feeling of betrayal. I know the anger, the resentment, the frustration and that little nagging voice in your head saying, “She doesn’t really care about you, it’s as simple as that.” I know. 

-How would you? Your mother didn’t conceive Octavia with a man who killed your father, did she?

Bellamy had snorted and bitten his lip, looking at the floor for a moment before glaring at her.

-Nope, but one of the persons I trusted the most fell in love with the woman who left me in a mountain to die.

Clarke had felt the blood draining from her cheeks, leaving her paler than a ghost. 

-You know. You’ve known all along.

-Do you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you really think I would be so distant with you just because you left? I knew it the moment I saw you two together at Polis. It was obvious as daylight.

-Bellamy...

She had tried to reach his shoulder with her hand but he had shaken her off, as he had usually done since they had found their way back to each other. Now she knew why; it hadn’t only been the fact that she had left him alone with all their shit, both their shit, to deal with in the hardest of moments, but it had been also the betrayal, the betrayal above all. 

-You knew what she did to us. You knew what she did to me.

Clarke had dared to look into Bellamy’s deep brown eyes, the ones that always got her questioning why anybody on Earth would think dark eyes weren’t the most exquisite things to exist, and felt ashamed to the core of her soul. There was pain written all over his face and the words he had uttered a few minutes ago came back to nag her... “She doesn’t really care about you, it’s as simple as that”, he had said. That what was he had thought for all those months, what he still thought. 

-And you still loved her; you still had something with her. Does that mean you don’t care about us?

He had not dared to say “he” and Clarke’s heart had broken a little more, teaching her that broken things could always broke themselves further. 

-Of course not.

-Then don’t judge your mother for loving Kane.

He had not waited for an answer from her and had almost been into camp again when Clarke’s voice had stopped him.

-Why haven’t you said anything to the others? About Lexa and I, I mean.

Bellamy had sighed and Clarke had realized that, as much as she liked to deny it, he carried as much weight as her on his shoulders. Without looking at her, his voice had been a shivering whisper into the cold of a December night. 

-Because I’m not sure they would forgive you.

From that day on, Clarke had never dared to judge her mother’s and Kane’s relationship. In fact, she had learned to be happy about it; Abby had been extremely sad since Clarke’s departure from camp and she deserved as much happiness as she could get, as anybody on Earth. During the war, Clarke, Bellamy and many of their friends had distinguished themselves and once the peace treaties had been signed and things had calmed down she, as Wanheda, had been offered a land for her and her people. It had only taken her a few minutes to go looking for Bellamy and discuss the offer with him.

The Hundred had been living at Camp Jaha peacefully for a few months; Abby and Kane –by then Chancellor and Vice Chancellor- had made an effort to create a new society, different from the one on the Ark, and recognize the value of those kids they had sent down to die, those kids whose lives –for most of them anyway- they had unfairly fucked up already up in space. Clarke had been offered a place at the council while Bellamy had been made a guard in charge of the trainees. They could not really complain; things had been fine and yet something had felt wrong. They could not erase the first few weeks on Earth, by their own, or how the arkers had ignored them as you do with petty children when they came down. They couldn’t go back to live under an exterior authority, not after having had to make so many hurtful decisions themselves. 

“It doesn’t matter what we or they do, we’ll always be the delinquents here. We can be more than that, but we’ll never stop being that.” The words Bellamy had told her once kept running through their head as they discussed their future. He had agreed with her fast enough; they needed to take the chance the grounders were offering, there would always be time for regrets later. They had put it to a vote, the majority of The Hundred’s survivors agreeing to leave. Only Jasper had remained behind, unable to look at her, nor at Bellamy, in the eyes. The news had not been easy for Abby and other family members of The Hundred but they had never had a say in the matter to begin with. The decision had been made. 

They had departed a week later, unshed tears in Clarke’s eyes as she had waved at her crying mother goodbye, and had not looked back. Some parents and lovers of the survivors had come, so had many grounders in search of a new model of society –different from the one they didn’t believe in anymore- or moved by some kind of love for a sky person. They had walked for a week before arriving to their promised land, near the ocean, to settle next to a grounder tribe with whom they instantly established a friendly relationship. It had been agreed that Clarke, because of her status among the grounder tribes, had to be in the lead but so had Bellamy since he was the natural leader of The Hundred, the one they truly trusted. The blonde had proposed a co-leadership, similar to the one they had shared in the early days, and Bellamy had accepted. There was to be an assembly to whom they would expose the camp’s problems and their decisions, even though their word would always be the last. It was to be a temporary situation, until their society could stand on their own feet, then they would transition to one of those democracies they had read about in History books. Monty had proposed “Utopia” as the camp’s name and, even though Clarke and Bellamy had not been thrilled, they had put it to a vote. Hope must have a better life expectancy than anything else because, despite their grumbling, Clarke and Bellamy had found themselves carving “Utopia Camp” on a massive wood panel. And just like that, their lives as Utopian people had begun. Clarke had always found their name cruelly ironic; them, who had given up so many of their ideals to survive, bore the name of idealists. 

-I am good Clarke, as good as I can be. You’re getting old, I’m proud of you.

Clarke snorts at her mother’s words before remembering that, yes, getting old on Earth is a success.

-Yeah, twenty-eight is not so bad for a girl who should have been floated the day she turned eighteen, is it?

Abby rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, her smile reaching her eyes for the first time, and Clarke feels pretty proud of herself. 

-So, when do you plan on starting a family?

-Mom!

Abby throws her hands in the air, as a sign of peace.

-Hey, I’m not pressuring you but we don’t know the life expectancy on Earth, and you’re not getting any younger.

-This conversation is getting weirder by the minute.

Abby stops and looks at her daughter, tenderness in her eyes. 

-Don’t have babies if you don’t want to but you certainly can’t want to be alone forever. There must be someone.

There isn’t, thinks Clarke. As far as her mother knows, the only love interest Clarke’s has had is Finn and she discovered it the day she kissed him before twisting a knife in his guts. Clarke really hopes her mother doesn’t know a thing about the Lexa’s disaster; it would be a shame to have to explain, on her birthday, how on Earth she ended up having to kill the two persons she’s ever been in love with. 

-There’s not, really, there’s not.

Abby sits down and signals for Clarke to sit beside her. The sun is shining brightly in the sky and Clarke has to squint her eyes at the light.

-Then there should be. Clarke, when your father died... I thought I didn’t deserve to be loved or to love.

-Mom, it’s not...

-I know Clarke, I do. You’ve hurt so much that you’ve chosen to close up. It’s understandable, a survival mechanism.

-You did deserve to love and be loved again.

-So do you. Nobody will ever erase the suffering you’ve gone through, or the one you’ve caused, but we’re at peace now. You can’t refuse living your life because you stoles others.

-I feel numb. It’s not even that I don’t want to feel anything, I just feel unable to do so.

Abby puts a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and squeezes. 

-That’s because you’re not letting yourself feel. A life without love, Clarke, isn’t a live worth living. It’s always better to love and to lose than to not love at all. Take if from someone who’s lost two times.

They stay there a few more minutes, not talking, just touching each other, comforted by the other’s presence before heading back to camp. Clarke offers her mother and the rest of Sky camp’s people shelter for a few days –it takes seven days to get there after all- and invite them to attend the celebrations of they day. They gladly accept and, soon enough, Lincoln’s voice is in her ear.

-Grounders are coming.

 

“My mother... she is beautiful, softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel. I want to grow old and be like her.”

Jodi Picoult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't an easy story to read so thanks to bear with me! 
> 
> More Bellamy is coming, I swear. He won't always be so absent.


	3. Long time not to see, Whaneda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke receives the Forest Nation and the new leader of the alliance between the clans, Adilia. She remembers past events concerning the war and Lexa's destiny.

“People are all over the world telling their one dramatic story and how their life has turned into getting over this one event. Now their lives are more about the past than their future.”

Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

 

Clarke insists but Abby declines her offer to attend the arrival of the grounders’ delegations by her side every single time. The doctor likes to think of Clarke’s invitation as an honor, which it is, but she also knows a deeper meaning is attached to it. The truth is Clarke would give anything to not be left alone to trade or meddle with the Grounder tribes but her pleas always go unanswered. The absence that hurts the most is always Bellamy’s though; after the years filled with every kind of adventure they had shared, Clarke and Bellamy had almost become one and only person. They both could complete each other’s sentences, know what the other was thinking just by barely looking at them... Being side by side, to lead side by side, had become as natural to Clarke as breathing; in fact, sometimes breathing would get difficult while Bellamy’s presence at her side was always calming and comforting. They would always stand together but for anything related to the grounders; Bellamy had gotten over his hatred for them a long time ago and had developed very good relationships with the clans and even some significant bonds with some of their members but when it came to something official, he just liked to disappear. Clarke would tell him to stand by her side, as always, and lead together but he would stubbornly refuse. 

As far as he was concerned, he was a leader to his people, but only a respected warrior to the grounders, which, in a warrior culture as theirs, should have been considered a great honor, but Clarke knew how much he hated that title. Every time he was labeled as a great warrior, it reminded him of every single person he had killed to survive and protect his people; it reminded him of the worst part of him, so he let Clarke deal with it because, as he would always say, he was a warrior in their eyes but she was their Heda. So as the first delegation approaches, Clarke stands alone at the gate, waiting for her visitors. She looks around, hoping to see Bellamy standing in some corner but there is no sight of him. It is her birthday, she realizes, and she still hasn’t seen him, which is strange, since he is the first person she normally sees everyday, and unsettling. The appearance of the Forest Nation stops her train of thoughts and she salutes the ones that had welcomed her all those years ago, when she had left Bellamy standing alone, facing the consequences of her own acts. That’s when it occurs to her that maybe it is fair she has to do this on her own, a simple gesture courtesy of Karma. 

-Whaneda.

The Forest nation’s guard bows in front of her and, for a brief second, she wants to puke. She had hoped that little nickname of theirs would go always with time but its use only spread. She would always be Whaneda to them, even to the people that had found her in the forest, hungry, cold and dirty, desperate for some human heat. They had not recognized her at the time and she had been forever grateful. At first she had feared for her life but, as soon as she could show them she was a healer, they had welcomed her among them without questions. She had thought the few words of trigedasleng she had known would be enough but soon discovered that every grounder tribe had their own dialect. They also had their own culture, their own habits; some of the tribes had even developed art. She had understood then, as a Forest nation’s healer, that things were in no way as simple as they had first believed they were. 

She smiles at the guard -a face she had met back then- and silently thanks him and his people one more time. When Clarke had left Camp JaJa, it had been because she simply could not handle it. The guilt had been too much. She hadn’t know who she was and she couldn’t handle her mother’s face looking at her as a monster she couldn’t recognize anymore. She couldn’t bear Octavia’s penetrating gaze, judging her every single second. She couldn’t handle imagining all the others discovering what she had done at Ton DC and looking at her as her mother had. Most of all, she couldn’t stomach Bellamy’s reaction upon discovering she had left his sister to die. He had offered her forgiveness but he had not known what he was forgiving her for. She would never forget the look he had given her when, some months later, she had told him the truth about that episode of her life. There had been hatred in his eyes, a fury she should have been afraid of but, most of all, there had been disappointment and at the time Clarke could not afford disappointing the only person she trusted. The Forest nation had been her escape, a place to not be Clarke and neither Whaneda, a place to discover a new person, half way between the two, a person named Afya. That’s how she had stopped being Clarke, The 100’s thinker, and Whaneda, the destroyer of worlds, to become Afya, the one who heals. That’s who she had wanted to keep being for the rest of her life; it would never had been enough but Clarke had hoped that to devote the rest of her life to healing people would balance how much time she had dedicated to kill them. The Ground, of course, had other plans waiting for her. 

-Clarke, kom Utopiakru, it’s always a pleasure.

Adilia’s voice reaches her ears but, for a moment, all Clarke can do is look into those blue pools that are almost identical to Lexa’s. The grounders believe in reincarnation and, since the day she met Adilia, so does Clarke, at least sometimes. Apart from the eyes they look nothing alike; Adilia is taller, her features sweeter and her hair a vivid tone of red but there’s something about her, an aura, that reminds her so much of Lexa it hurts. Every time she sees her, she is transported back to one of the nights that had changed her life. 

 

Flashback 

 

Clarke had been living with the Forest Nation for three months when a known voice resonated through her tent. 

-Clarke kom skaikru, long time not to see.

Clarke had breathed in and out for a few seconds, hoping the voice would vanish. She had hoped, with every fiber in her being, to turn around and find only emptiness but it had been a long time since her wishes got granted. Lexa was standing in front of her, proud, as if she had nothing to feel guilty for. Lexa: the one who had kissed her, the one she had handed over Finn to, the one she had trusted, the one who had betrayed her leaving to die in that mountain the people she had cared the most about. I should kill her, was the first thing Clarke had thought upon seeing her but she wasn’t that far gone yet. She didn’t kill until she found it absolutely necessary. She didn’t kill for revenge. 

-What are you doing here?

Lexa had approached her, in awe of the painting that now decorated her once angelical face. Clarke had taken a step back, signaling she didn’t want to be touched.

-So you’re one of ours now.

The words had hit her as a thousand knifes and then some more would have. Had she become one of them? Had she become one of the persons her friends were terrified of? Had she become the enemy? Then the real question, the one that had been running through her head on a loop since Mount Weather, came back to hit her with full force: had she become Lexa? When she had met the Heda, she had felt identified. She had felt understood. With Bellamy in the mountain, she had been left to lead alone. At the time she had taken pride in being like Lexa, she had felt herself complete by her side and it had gotten to her head. She had refused to listen to anybody else, she had assumed a leadership that did not belong to her in a unilateral way and it had brought her fall. What had she become? Whaneda, destroyer of worlds. Being Lexa had stopped bringing joy; it had been then a curse she would have given anything to get rid of.

-What do you want? How dare you after what you did?

-I did what I had to do to protect my people.

The words had hurt Clarke deeper than she had ever thought they would. A part of her, a tiny one, had hoped Lexa would realize how wrong she had been but that would never happen because the truth, the cold and heartless truth, was that Lexa would never regret her decision. In fact, and Clarke knew it perfectly, she would have done it again without a moment of hesitation.

-You could have protected them by fighting.

-The causalities would have been too elevated. Why go to war and let blood run when I can avoid it? You freed your people anyway. You defeated the Mountain.

Clarke had snorted. Lexa had said those words as if defeating the Mountain should be something to be proud of. How could anyone be proud of eliminating people? How could anyone be proud of assassinating innocent children? People who had helped hers to get out of there alive? If there was something left of humanity in her, Clarke had decided, that would be it. She would always keep the guilt of her crimes. It was the very least she could do. 

-Have you any idea of how many innocent persons I killed?

A flash of Bellamy’s face had distracted her when uttering those words. “We”, she had corrected herself mentally, “we killed.” And yet it would never be the same because he had not had a choice. He had done his job inside the Mountain. He had been the brave hero who puts his life at peril to save others and succeeds. It had been her decisions, and only them, that had put him in the position to pull that level and she would never let him bear the weight she had owned on her own. He had carried enough of his own weight since the beginning. 

-Have you any idea of how many people they would have keep on killing if you had not stopped them?

-Apparently you didn’t care that much, since it wouldn’t have been your people. Cut the crap, Lexa.

-What crap?

-You crap; your whole “love is weakness” and “some things have to be done.” I bought it once and look where it took me. Never again.

Lexa had looked at her with something in her eyes akin to sadness for a few seconds, her mask of fearless leader in place soon enough. 

-I’ve tracked you and come here for a reason. I need your help, Whaneda.

Clarke had cringed at the word. She had heard the legends and tales of Whaneda, she had felt sick every single time.

-Do you not dare call me that.

-That’s who you are now. You can hide in the Forest all you want, it won’t matter. No one escapes identity. I am Heda of my people, you are Whaneda and I need your help.

-And why in hell would I help you? You should be content I have not killed you by now.

-For the greater good, that is why. Helping me is helping everyone.

-And why would that be?

-The alliance between the clans broke a week ago. The Forest Nation’s emissaries should arrive with the news anytime now.

Clarke had swallowed and closed her eyes. The break of the alliance could only mean one thing: war.

-Why?

-You very well know why. This is a warrior culture and many believe my decision at Mount Weather was dishonorable.

-They don’t believe you worthy of leading them.

-Some don’t, other have simply seen the opportunity to gain the power I hold.

Clarke had shrugged before looking directly into Lexa’s eyes.

-Well, I can’t really say I disagree. Can I? Maybe we would all be better without you as a leader. I’d prefer someone reliable.

-If we go to war, we will all loose, your people too. If you think I’m evil, wait to meet others. Before I built the alliance, this was hell on Earth: a constant war.

-They’ll find someone else to lead.

-They will fight each other to lead. You don’t want to discover what happens when power falls in the wrong hands.

 

Present Day

 

In the end she had followed Lexa, for the greater good. The war had exploded nonetheless and the following months had been a nightmare. 

-Adilia, I am honored by your visit.

The young leader looks around camp, impressed by what she sees.

-It is impressive how much your camp has thrived, Clarke.

She wants to correct Adilia because it’s been a long time since anything was Clarke’s alone, now it’s always “our” camp or “our” anything else. Sometimes Clarke has to wonder how is it still possible for Bellamy and her to still have two bodies and be functional when they are apart. She doesn’t though because she knows that to the grounders Bellamy would never be a leader, but a warrior. 

-Yes, time has been kind to us. 

-Always so modest, Clarke. 

-We owe it to you in part, don’t we? You’re holding the alliance together; every tribe speaks wonders of you.

-I don’t do much; I’ve chosen to let each tribe live by its own rules. I only ask of them to keep peace. It’s easier that way. 

The implications of Adilia’s words are not lost on Clarke. She remembers the hatred of other tribes towards Lexa, their complaints about her trying to impose some of her people’s rules and culture among others. At the time Clarke had thought that grounders only fought for land but in the end, their fights had not been that much different from the ones featuring in the Ark’s storybooks. They also fought for their freedom to speak a language, the right to their own laws or their political independence. Lexa had been too ambitious. 

-You do well. We chose correctly. 

-It’s funny though, when you chose me, I didn’t want the job.

-Smart girl, nobody who actually knows what it’s like to lead actually wants to lead. 

-I wasn’t given a choice though.

-None of us was given much of a choice back then. 

 

Flashback 

 

The war had been going on for a year when it came to a stop. The Ice Nation’s queen, who first had been the precious ally of the Sky people and other tribes, had gone mad. She would stop at nothing to reach the power of leading the twelve clans, not even at the always-higher number of victims. Things had been blocked for months. Lexa’s people and her allies were resisting in Polis but time was running against them. That was when Lexa made the choice that would change everything. 

She had called Clarke, by then something more than a forced ally, in her tent. Clarke had known right away. She could feel it in her bones.

-It is time.

-It is not.

Lexa had looked at her sadly before taking her cold hand into hers.

-There is nothing left to do. I made a decision at Mount Weather to protect my people, and I will assume the consequences. 

-Lexa, the Ice Nation’s queen will be sanguinary. 

-That’s exactly why. If the war stops now, there is still a chance she won’t be chosen. 

-She could impose herself through military strength.

-Against eleven clans? Not a chance.

-What are you suggesting?

-To solve the original problem. There is only one thing blocking the way to peace and it is I.

-Lexa...

-As long as I am Heda, they won’t stop but if they can choose a new leader, one they trust, they will. 

-So make a declaration. Surrender yourself.

-Clarke, a Heda cannot surrender. A Heda cannot stop being one but through death. 

Clarke had looked at her, pain and betrayal written all over her face. 

-Don’t ask me that.

-With me dead, you’ll be able to choose. You’re good at politics; you’ll find a way.

-I’m not killing you.

-Then I’ll have someone else doing it. It’s a shame though; I would prefer you to be the one. 

Clarke had shook, tears streaming down her face. Lexa had approached her and caressed her cheek.

-It was never going to be forever anyways.

-How do you know that? 

-I just do it and so do you. You’ve never forgiven me Mount Weather anyway, and you never will. Thank you though Clarke.

-For what? Leading you to death?

-Leading me to death? Oh no, that was all me. Thank you for giving me the chance to love again and remind me that love doesn’t have to be weakness. It also can be strength.

-It’s being weakness right now.

-No, it’s not. Your love for me will make you bring the right person to power. You won’t let my death go to waste because you love me. That is strength.

-I’ll be alone.

-That’s unfair. You’ve never been alone, Clarke. Your people have always been there. You just didn’t want to admit their love because you felt unworthy.

-Stop.

-Look at me Clarke; I am not your Costia. It is love, but it’s not that one love.

Clarke had looked at Lexa and understood. It had not made it any less painful.

-There is no choice. You have to do what’s best. Victory stands behind sacrifice. It is now my turn. 

-I know.

-Keep on loving, Clarke kom skaikru. You’ll find the one. In fact, we both know you already have.

The rest of that memory felt like a repeat of the worst day of her life, a cruel prank life had put her through.

 

Present Day 

 

-It’s in the past though, now we enjoy peace.

-We do. 

-Where do you put our present to you?

-Oh, that wasn’t necessary. Go over there and put it with the others. We’ll have a ceremony soon, when I have received representation of every clan.

-Very well.

As Adilia leaves her side, Clarke’s eyes are glued to Bellamy’s form, standing by the gate. It’s the first time she sees him today and she is so absorbed by him that it takes her a few seconds to realize he’s talking to Echo. They are both close enough so their bodies touch, relaxed smiles etched on their faces and for a moment Clarke has the impression to be contemplating an image of the past. 

 

“A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality.”

Winston S. Churchill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware there has not been much Bellarke yet but there well, trust me. 
> 
> Comments make me happy :)

**Author's Note:**

> You know the deal, I won't lie to you: reviews are motivating. Constructive criticism is welcomed.


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